In Some Places, Burning Furniture Is A Method Of Protest
by thousandmonkeys
Summary: But not in Sanguinem, where chairs are also known as future firewood. In retrospect, attempting to have a campfire in an underground city was an ill-thought out idea at best. It's a good thing for Mika that Yuu's around to suggest alternatives. Day 6 of Mikayuu Week, "Light"


"Yuu, let's have a campfire."

"Eh?" His brother looked at him like he'd gone insane, arching a generous eyebrow at Mika. "What?"

It was the eyebrows, Mika decided, that magnified each and every one of Yuu's expressions. Those, combined with those nearly unnervingly green eyes of his, emphasised that terrible intensity that marked Yuu's every action.

"A campfire," Mika said, laughing sheepishly as he ran a hand through his hair. He winced as it got caught in a particularly vicious tangle, and tugged it free, resolving to comb it more often. "You know, the kind where they roast marshmallows," he said, and gestured in an approximation of a bonfire to illustrate his point.

"Marshmallows," Yuu repeated after him. "Like, actual marshmallows?"

"There's singing, too, I guess."

"Singing?" Yuu considered it for a moment, before dismissing the idea with a wave of his hand. More importantly—

"Where are we going to find sticks?" Somehow, Yuu managed to look even more incredulous before. "I mean, don't campfires need, you know, fire? Unless you plan on burning Chihiro's books, or stealing a noble's furniture. And both are absolutely terrible ideas, if you're actually asking me." Of course, knowing him, the blonde could very well have been serious, and already stole a noble's furniture, and now needed Yuu's help to hide it.

"Of course, it won't be a real campfire, unless you want angry city guards descending on us," Mika added hastily. "I mean, I don't think even I, the Great Mikaela, can get us out of that," he said, tapping a hand on his chest. As if it wasn't clear already that he was speaking of himself.

It was Akane that suggested it first, eyes wide and earnest in that doe-eyed way of hers. She laughed as she said it, embarrassed for the sheer absurdity of the idea, and shook her head to dissuade him almost immediately after. Mikaela had absolutely loved the idea, seizing upon it enthusiastically.

That is, until he ran into that a certain obstacle that Yuu had already voiced.

"So? How does the 'Great Mikaela' think he's going to make a campfire?" Yuu said, rolling his eyes at Mika's self-proclaimed title.

"I was hoping you could help me with that, actually."

"Idiot."

"But I'm a beautiful idiot," he said without missing a beat, batting his eyelashes in an approximation of those curvaceous women he used to see on TV before the virus. Hey, if it worked on TV-

"Eurgh," Yuu said, elbowing the other in the side. "That's just gross, Mika. You look like your eyes are going to pop out."

"Thank you," Mika said, nodding gravely and accepting the words as if it had been the highest compliment possible.

Yuu threw his hands up in the air, groaning in frustration. "There's just no way to reason with you, huh?" A thought struck him, and he frowned. Mischief tugged at the corners of his lips, and he raised a finger up in thought. "Hey, Mika, actually—"

"We are _not_ burning Chihiro's books." He didn't think Yuu would actually suggest that, of course, but it was better to head things off before the idea stuck. Yuu had this love for wanton destruction, and even though Mika found it amusing at the best of times, it wasn't the best thing about his brother.

"What?" Yuu gaped at him, aghast. He waved his hands about to emphasise his point, denying it vehemently. " _No_!"

"Okay, good. That's good."

"I wouldn't do that." Yuu kicked a pebble somewhat sullenly, and said nothing else, annoyance creasing his brows. The previous idea was left unsaid, and Mika felt a pang of regret.

"C'mon, Yuu, what was the idea you had?"

"Well, it sure isn't burning Chihiro's books. If you're going to say that."

"Okay, okay, sorry," he said, and threw his arm around his brother's neck. Admittedly, the assumption had been in poor taste, and Mika found himself shaking his head in apology. Yuu was in the right this time, at the very least. "But really, tell me…?" He left the last phrase hanging, more a question than anything else.

"Fine." Exhaling, Yuu nodded, emphasizing his point, the previous annoyance forgotten. Or perhaps dismissed for the moment. Either one was alright by Mika's standards. "What about we steal a chair from the library? It would probably work as fuel, right?"

"But—"

Mika's voice cut off as he considered the idea, the objection dying half-formed on his lips. It wasn't as foolhardy a plan as it sounded, even if it did involve what would likely turn out to be a troublesome heist.

All things considered, the library accessible to the children was no more than a glorified book-room; decorated in a gloomy grey shade, even being in there was enough to suck the soul right out of them. Livestock didn't need to read, in the eyes of the vampires, and even though the boys hated being called that, that didn't change how they were treated. Still, the so-called library had chairs—probably more chairs than books, if Mika remembered correctly—and that was what mattered.

The furniture were really old and brittle too; it would burn nicely, if Mika remembered correctly. He hadn't been in there for a few months. Last time, they'd built a fort of books in there, sneezing through what seemed to be decades old dust. Hopefully, everything would be exactly the same as it was; if it was, that promised to be entertaining for a little while.

Anything to break the monotony.

And most importantly, there were no adults there; the city guards wouldn't object too much to children 'playing' with the furniture, even if they did see them.

"Then let's go check, Yuu. The library's not far away, right?"

"Yeah."

Yuu took hold of Mika's hand, and they wandered down the streets of Sanguinem in search of the library in question. The city was a maze at the best of times, and even to children as familiar to the streets as the two brothers were, and in a way, Mika was thankful for the other's company. It kept things from being lonely.

* * *

"How much further till—" A pause, as the pair tried to navigate around a group of children playing skipping rope. "—we get home?"

One entertaining chair heist later, involving children turf battles and hiding from the guards, Mika and Yuu were making their way back home. Slowly. Extremely, excruciatingly slowly. The chairs were brittle; the parts all but fell apart in their hands as they carried it through Sanguinem's cobbled streets. Tellingly, they had to stop every so often to pile on bits that broke off every now and then. _Bits_.

Each time the pair made their way down a flight of stairs, their prospective firewood sank ominously lower and lower, bobbing strangely. The sight attracted a great deal of attention from the other children, but nobody made any move to help. _Good_. Mika didn't want them to help. Too much trouble, too much hurt pride.

"Hopefully, ten minutes—?" Walking down the stairs was like doing a trust fall in the most spine-endangering way possible.

"Oh."

A battered copy of a World Map was balanced precariously on the top of the increasingly unrecognisable pile of wood. With every pebble the pair had to step gingerly over, it wobbled threateningly. Mika eyes it apprehensively, and shifted its weight to try and balance it. It was nice book, he figured. There was a high chance he only thought so because it was also the _only_ book left in the library. Everything else was either moth eaten or gone; probably the latter, given how cold this winter was. The bookcases had been a sorry sight; the empty shelves sagged from the weight of books long gone.

In retrospect, he figured he should've made sure right from the start that there was a _reason_ the chair hadn't been collected for firewood already. Said reason was now making itself very clear in the way his hands were turning an ominous mixture of white and purple with every step they took. Eh, it didn't hurt much worse than frostbite.

Still, the strain must've shown on his face, despite his best attempts to hide it. Yuu suddenly stopped, and lifted the chair's weight off his hands. A real feat given how quickly the poor excuse for a chair was disintegrating, Mika thought.

Realising that his battered hands were now _very_ visible, he shoved them into his pockets roughly.

"Trying to be the hero, huh, Yuu?" Honestly, it was so much as not wanting to worry Yuu as because he was unwilling to look. It would be too embarrassing, for one. "Don't worry, we're almost fine. I mean, done. We're almost done."

Mika tried to laugh it off, much as he always did. Though, he couldn't quite disguise the relief in his eyes. He would take his share of the weight back soon, of course, but taking a break was more than welcome. A strange numbness had started up, as if they'd yet to realise they weren't being grossly overworked anymore. It was kind of like sticking them in ice water, maybe, and on the whole it was grossly distracting.

"Mika—You're going to get splinters," Yuu murmured, worry creasing his brow. Unlike Mika, who insisted on giving his only pair of gloves to the younger kids on the more chilly days—and today was one such day—Yuu always had his on. A leftover habit, maybe. That was probably why the darker-haired boy was so warm.

"C'mon, lets go and fetch some gloves before we try bringing this back. I mean, we don't have to have a campfire _today_ , right?"

"But we do, Yuu. It's got to be today" Mika pursed his lips, looking up for a moment, and immediately winced. "Ow." Right; clenching his fist was a bad idea. Future reference. Don't aggravate blisters.

"See, I told you. Let me see how bad it is."

"'S fine," he hissed. "Come on, we got to get back before they dim the lights." The city guards were oddly strict about curfew, though Mika doubted it was out of concern for their bedtimes. Maybe they had mass vampire orgies in the streets when the children slept—?

"Stupid—let me look." Yuu shook his head impatiently, and pulled on the other's wrist.

It remained closed.

"Stop clenching your hand, Mika. It's only going to make things worse." There was an authority to Yuu's voice this time, something that he only used when speaking to the youngest children.

For a moment, Mika thought about objecting. Then Yuu pulled on it more insistently and the blonde did as he was told, opening the palm. It really was quite badly scratched up; even after they had set the chair down, the skin remained that characteristic white—which, from experience, Mika knew threatened blisters— and one particularly large splinter had managed to bury itself in such a way that it was completely under the skin.

Honestly, he would be hard pressed to think of a worse injury. Even that one ill-fated attempt to retrieve a ball from that noble's house hadn't been as bad as this.

"You should've said something earlier, you dumbass," Yuu murmured. He ran a surprisingly gentle thumb over the raised skin, mouth set in a horizontal line. "And why did you squeeze it so tight? They're in really deep, now."

"What for? I mean the vampires aren't going to react very well, are they?" Annoyance was starting to bubble up now, pride bruised. He was the elder brother, damn it all, and he didn't want to worry Yuu. That was definitely not what the campfire idea had been for.

Yuu snorted. "Then it's a good thing I'm not a filthy vampire, huh? Imagine those creeps licking the blood off your hand."

"Yeah, I guess so," Mika managed. Damnit; now that he'd let the blood flow properly, the feeling was slowly returning to his hand, and he wasn't quite sure he liked it. It felt like a thousand needles were poking at him, for one.

"Right." Yuu gestured for Mika to sit down; patience was very much not his strong suit.

Mika found himself sitting down obligingly before he knew it. "Right _what_? We're kind of in the way here," he said. Couldn't let Yuu get too ahead of himself, after all. Even if he'd ended up in a _slightly_ pathetic position, he still had to maintain the air of the elder brother. Somehow. It was kind of hard to do when your younger brother could more or less command you to do anything, but hey, it was worth a shot.

Sitting cross-legged on one of the many narrow pathways was usually a surefire way to get kicked by an annoyed vampire; or bumped into by a bunch of children at play.

"You should've thought of that before you tried to be all hero-like."

Admittedly, Mika wasn't much of a think-before-you-act person, so he couldn't deny Yuu's words. "There were a couple of problems, maybe. But it's fine, right?"

"It _will_ be, soon. Just hold still."

Yuu stretched Mika's palm flat, and with a deft gesture, picked out one of the less buried splinters.

The blonde couldn't help himself; he winced. " _Ow_." Definitely not a shriek, thank you very much. A dignified objection, more like. His voice was a _tad_ higher than normal, maybe. Fine, it had _hurt_. "You could've _told_ me you were going to do that."

"Don't be such a baby," Yuu said, rolling his eyes.

Mika raised an eyebrow in object; the effect wasn't anywhere near as nice as the satisfying bushiness of Yuu's eyebrows, of course, but it served his point anyway. "I'm the older one here, though."

"You're the one with wood in their hand, too."

"How did you learn all this, anyway? You're really good at it."

Yuu fell silent, the easy banter disappearing, and he worked in silence on Mika's hand, which was now an impressive shade of red. Very impressive red.

"Yuu?"

The silence seemed to last an age before, finally, he sighed. He set down Mika's left hand, patting the now splinter-free, albeit sore, skin gently, and picked up the right to start his work anew.

"—My mother. I learnt it from my mother. My father used to carve wood, sometimes. Planks everywhere. I got splinters all the time."

"Oh." There was a strange formality to the boy's speech that worried Mika, and a curtness to it that Mika hadn't heard since they'd first met. "Oh, I see." Yuu never spoke of his family, and Mika had never asked. And that was—alright. It was alright.

To the Hyakuya siblings, parents were a taboo; Mika himself took a blasé attitude to it, but then again, the blonde was an exception. It was a tacit understanding between the two of them, after all. Why speak of the past when there were a thousand and one things to do in the present? To say nothing of the future, too.

"Anyways, at least this came out of it, right?" Yuu shook his head, and let go of Mika's right hand, too; there were fewer splinters in this one, since the right hand had a firmer grip on the chair, and Mika rubbed it, wincing. "So it wasn't all bad. Anyways, they're dead, right? Looks like the vampires did something right, for once."

"Yeah, I guess so."

There was a neat pile of wooden splinters on the floor next to them, and Mika marveled at how Yuu had managed to extract such tiny pieces of wood with nothing more than his fingers. Maybe it was the unchewed nails; Mika resolved to stop chewing his fingernails, too. It was a day of resolutions. He needed to comb his hair more, chew his nails less—

"We should go soon."

"Mm."

The artificial lamplight was fast darkening to the familiar ruddy red glow. Evening already, then. Standing up, he dusted imaginary specks of timber off the clothes. "Let's clean this up, Yuu. We wouldn't want any of the others stepping on it."

* * *

"Mika, Yuu, do I _want_ to know why you guys are back after curfew?" Said so sweetly, a stranger would've said that Akane was simply concerned for them. That she was merely exhibiting a _gentle_ worry over their absence.

Mika and Yuu knew better.

Akane was the most terrifying out of all their siblings when she wanted to be. Thankfully, those times were few and far in between.

"We visited the library," they said as one, peering up guiltily at their sister. She had her hands on her hips, and had puffed out her chest; on the whole, the effect was strangely intimidating. As a pair, they cringed under her disapproving gaze, and suddenly seemed to find their shoes very interesting. Extremely so.

"You guys actually wanted to _read_?"

"Yes." That was Mika.

"So you guys were reading a chair, huh?"

"Yep." And that was Yuu.

She groaned, and seemed to sag where she stood. "I know I said to find something to burn, but I mean plants. Twigs. Not a _chair_ ," she said, waving her hands about to illustrate her point. "You know, burning a chair could get you, into serious trouble. And then Daichi's going to learn your habits and you three are going to get arrested. And killed. And then what?"

"It's not really a chair any more," one of them added helpfully.

"Yeah, it's more of a pile of wood that could be a chair. With splinters," piped up the other.

"…Just come inside before one of the city guards see you. The food's ready."

* * *

Mika held his hands out to the now cheerily-burning campfire, inhaling deeply at how warm their makeshift campfire was. Beside him, Yuu stirred slowly, lulled into a stupor from the warmth of the fire and the sheer amount of food they'd eaten.

In retrospect, they maybe should've have eaten so much. Their food quota couldn't take much more abuse as it stood.

But that was a problem for another day.

Their hard-earned chair burned well, alright. It may have filled their house with more smoke than it should've, and made all of them cough a great deal before they figured out how to funnel away the smoke, but somehow the treats, skewered onto more chair remnants, tasted much better than it would've over if cooked their miserable excuse for a stove.

Akane had really come through this time; she'd managed to make little balls of dough that, even if they looked like they had more in common with mudballs than anything else, tasted _amazing_. The very-ungentle twap on his head from the seemingly gentle girl was very worth it. Though— her ladle was _deadly_. Who needed weapons to fight vampires with when Akane had her trusty ladle?

Somehow, their sister had managed to scrounge up some cheese; an amazing feat, since Mika doubted any vampires would deign to run a dairy farm. Maybe that was where the twelve-year-olds got sent to work?

Their eldest sister was coaxing everybody into singing campfire songs now; and Yuu had raised his voice in a smooth tenor too, joining his voice in harmony with the other children. They had to keep their voices low, of course, but it was always fun to do something relatively normal. Although the blonde doubted pre-Virus children had campfires in their own homes.

In a way, they _were_ camping, though. Mika didn't intend to stay here forever, and watching his family huddle around the campfire in camaraderie only spurred the desire for freedom.

That was the word for it, right? Camaderie. Or something like it. Usually, he just called it family; a sentiment that everybody in the room surely shared.

Even if Yuu hadn't admitted it yet.

Mikaela didn't sing; it just wasn't a thing he did. The blonde may have had a natural aptitude at everything else, but musical talent was something he knew he lacked. Instead, he contented himself with toasting those strange dough balls his sister had invented, watching the yellow dough brown slowly in the fire. One fell off the end, lost to the flames; a waste.

"Hey, Yuu," he murmured, and held up the skewered dough balls—perfectly cooked, if he did say so himself, and the only success so far—to Yuu patiently, waiting for his brother to notice.

The song came to an end, and Yuu's voice cut off abruptly. A reddened flush rose on his cheeks, embarrassed that he'd been so into the song that he'd forgotten his own vehement denials that he _didn't sing thank you very much_ , and took the proffered skewer with a grateful nod.

"C'mon, let's go look at the World Map book."

"Eh?" Yuu glanced over at the other children, and, satisfied that most of them were dozing off, got up too. Mika smiled at the concern; Yuu could deny it all he wanted to, but nothing changed the fact that the children saw him as one of the elder brothers. "Sure."

Mika grabbed a lamp from the wall, and as a pair, they made their way up to the roof; a sanctuary of sorts, for the both of them. Only Akane knew where to find them, when they were up here. Yuu, especially, loved high places. And Mika sometimes liked to pretend that the distant electric lights of Sanguinem's ceiling were stars. For all he knew, the vampires had meant for them to look like stars. He wouldn't put it past them.

They both sat quietly, faces lit by the warm glow of the lantern. The pages of the World Map were yellowed with age, but the words were still there. To Mika's tired eyes, the words seemed to crawl, spider-like, in the lamplight. Not that either of them had much interest in the words, of course. The pictures were a thousand times more interesting.

They busied themselves with admiring the maps, with the occasional "I want to go _there_."

Which was often followed by "It looks cold."

Which necessitated a weary, or sometimes, exasperated, "Just wear a jacket, then. Penguins, Yuu. _Penguins_."

"Fat birds?"

"Yes!"

"Bet they taste great."

Then—

"So, Mika," Yuu said, voice suddenly taking on a serious air. His eyes bored with that vibrant intensity into his brother's own. "Mind telling me why we went through all of this?"

"It's your birthday," Mika said simply, spreading his hands wide. "Why else?"

"Huh." Yuu fell silent, and for a moment the only sound between them was the sound of people coming and going in the houses below them. "So—I made my own present?" His lips curved up in a grin. "You're a cheapskate, Mika. Don't I at least rate some chocolate?"

"Yeah, but I counted the days," Mika said, and stuck his tongue out. "It's been 400 days since we've been here, just so you know! So your birthday—I guess my present if remembering to tell you." Birthdays didn't really matter to the elder, if he was being fully honest; but since when had Mika been honest? And the blonde knew that most people seemed to make a big deal out of their birthdays. It didn't feel right to let it just slip by.

"I guess—so—" Yuu's voice was halting, as if unsure how to react. The gruff boy would usually brush off anything; yet faced with this kind of gesture—clearly genuine because what would Mika even gain from it?—he was left stumbling for words. Words were Mika's thing; Yuu's were precious few. Unless he was enraged, of course, but since that wasn't the case right now, he found himself lacking. "But why?"

Mika considered the other for a moment, head tilted ever so slightly. He took in the way Yuu's eyes seemed to shine, and decided to avoid it entirely. Things were getting too soppy for the blonde, and he'd never gotten used to the idea of receiving thanks. Mikaela did what he did, said what he said, and pleased others as well as he could, and he never expected gratitude for it; it was only natural, after all. The one habit he'd kept from the first five years of his life.

It wasn't only Yuu that was floundering in unknown territory here. So, instead—

"Because! Can't you call me onii-chan already?" he asked, pouting. Mika took refuge in his usual insistence to be called family. It was a good way to avoid things, in his experience. "C'mon, I even injured all ten fingers for you. Ten fingers, Yuu. And the palms, too." Mika wiggled his fingers about to illustrate his point, the white plasters catching the light.

"You're six months older than me, Mika. Don't push it."

"Eeeh, why?" Mika sang. "You don't have to be so shy, Yuu. _Otoutou_ -chan," he added with a definitive air. It wouldn't stick, he knew, but maybe Yuu would relent this one time.

He didn't. Mika hadn't expected him to.

"Who's the little brother here?" Yuu yelped, but the usual indignant edge was gone. In its place was a grudging thanks, and if the minute reddening of his ears was any indication, Yuu was blushing; the sight made all the hijinks more than worth it. "But really; thanks, Mika," he managed, and said no more.

"Anything for family, right?" As if that explained it all. In a way, it did. "Anyways, I don't want to hear anything from the person that forgot their own birthday."

It didn't, not to the birthday boy, but he would let it slide just this once. Still, for the sake of his pride, and for the sake of keeping the record straight, he had to say it. "—'snot family."

"Eh?"

"We're not family, Mika." But the vehemence was strikingly absent, for once,

Mika smiled to himself, hiding it by looking down at his hands. Small hands; hands that couldn't do much; hands that were currently covered in band-aids and slightly yellow from the iodine solution they'd used on the splinters. "You're so stubborn, Yuu!" he sighed, exhaling. "Fine, fine. Not today, then."

"Hm—"

"I'll try again tomorrow."

" _Mika_ …"

A/N: I know nothing about music. Or singing. Yep. This was originally written for Day 6 of Mikayuu Week all the way back in September, and posted on AO3. It's a childhood fic, just because I didn't want to write Musical AU... And also because I was inspired by that one official fanart where they are holding the World Map book. Ehehe..

And! Yuu is a dummy that forgot his own birthday. :3


End file.
